Rachael Stapleton's Blog, page 11

Author Spotlight: Jacqueline Paige

ScentAnimal Trilogy Book TwoJacqueline Paige
eBook ISBN: 9781629292588Print ISBN: 9781629292595 Genre: ParanormalSub Genre: Romance Novel of 79838 wordsHeat rating: 3 Edited by Sally OdgersCover Artwork by Amanda Kelsey

Sometimes the answers you get aren’t what you asked.The world can tilt a bit and throw you off balance, just enough that you have to stop and make some adjustments. Kelsey comes home to find out her entire life and everything she thought she knew is a lie. When her world spins out of control and flips in more directions then she could ever count, she struggles to right it again.
Available at Eternal Press   Amazon  About the Author:
Jacqueline Paige lives in Ontario in a small town that's part of the popular Georgian Triangle area.  No one has ever heard of Stayner, so she usually tells people she lives near Collingwood and no, she doesn't ski at Blue Mountain or at all, in fact she's not even fond of snow.
She began her writing career in 2006 and since her first published works in 2009 she hasn't stopped.  Jacqueline describes her writing as all things paranormal, which she has proven is her niche with stories of witches, ghosts, physics and shifters now on the shelves.
When Jacqueline isn't working at her reality job or lost in her writing she spends time with her five children, most of whom are finally able to look after her instead of the other way around.  Together they do random road trips, that usually end up with them lost,  shopping trips where they push every button in the toy aisle, hiking when there's enough time to escape and bizarre things like creating new daring recipes in the kitchen. She's a grandmother to five (so far) and looks forward to corrupting many more in the years to come.
https://www.facebook.com/authorjacquelinepaige@JacqPaigehttps://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3080517.Jacqueline_Paigehttp://jacquelinepaige.com/http://jacqpaige.blogspot.ca/http://www.amazon.com/Jacqueline-Paige/e/B003LDHJAW/

Tuesday's Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip: This Weeks Traveller is A.A Schenna

Travel and make-believe go hand in hand. Whether we're in the present or the past, in a haunted castle, an enchanted forest or a broken down building, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and traveling the world can bring the imagination to life.

This week's Treasured & Tipsy Time Traveller is Solstice Author A.A Schenna. He loves discovering new places and incorporating them into his writing. Follow along and enjoy the peaceful countryside of the Midwestern United States, stroll along the beach in Florida, and bathe in the waterfalls of Hawaii.



Midwestern United StatesLooking up at the sky and breathing the air of relief…Make a new beginning in the countryside. Leave the exhausting, demanding life in the city behind and move on. If you look forward to getting your energy, time and love back, don’t hesitate. The power of nature, the beautiful sunsets and the smell of the trees will make you feel the happiest man on Earth. You will have to change everything and, of course, your way of life, but I am sure you will never regret it. Your decision will make you experience the rebirth of your life.Rebirth, the second story of Limitless Love Collection sets in Minnesota.
Southeastern region of the United States Discovering the first leaps of love again…Strolling at the beach, hand in hand, fully in love…Is there anything better than spending Sunday mornings near the sea? The answer is NO. When you gaze at the sea, the memories of the past come up. You feel you are seventeen, and you keep on walking with your partner while talking about your future.Silent Love, the first story of Limitless Love Collection sets in Florida.

HawaiiStranded in paradise…There are no words to describe the feelings.The moment your feet sense the cold water of the ocean, you feel wonderful. It’s like seeing your heart leaving your body, flying above the white clouds of euphoria. The Key, the third story of Limitless Love Collection sets in paradise.


Silent LoveRebirthThe KeyThree stories of romance for lovers of all ages…

http://www.amazon.com/Limitless-Love-Collection-A-Schenna-ebook/dp/B00UG0C3EK


BIOAs a child, A.A dreamed of being a cardiac surgeon. Later, Schenna realized that this was not what he wanted.Writing has always been his greatest pleasure. When he doesn’t write action, adventure, romance stories or anything else, he reads everything. A.A loves traveling, meeting new people and discovering new places. Schenna admires all the writers he comes across and enjoys talking about books and magazines.
www.aaschenna.comhttps://www.facebook.com/pages/AA-Schenna/701740166542505?ref=hlhttps://twitter.com/ASchenna
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9867849.A_A_Schenna
#Hawaii #Florida #Midwestern United States #Travel #AuthorInterview #TreasuredTipsyTimeslip #RachaelStapleton #CurseofthePurpleDelhiSapphire #AASchenna #Limitlesslovecollection #SilentLove #Rebirth #TheKey

Tuesday's Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip: This Weeks Traveller is Rachel Rawlings

Travel and make-believe go hand in hand. Whether we're in the present or the past, in a haunted castle, an enchanted forest or a broken down building, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and traveling the world can bring the imagination to life.
This Weeks Traveller is Rachel Rawlings. Her time growing up was split between Maryland and Rhode Island, which only fueled her love of New England and it’s gorgeous seaside towns. The history of Salem has always fascinated her and she found its ability to embrace such a dark spot in time, making it a favorite destination among tourists the perfect place for her supernatural cast of characters. Not to mention the irony of a coven of witches taking up residence in a town famous for its witch trials. From the eastern seaboard we’ll hop to the Emerald Isle, the number one place on Rachel's my bucket list and another spot featured in her novels. She dreams of owning a pub in one of the small towns, serving libations at night and writing during the day! The colorful pubs, historic homes and rolling green countryside inspired Mason’s hometown and Maurin’s refuge. But trouble never stays away for long and it’s certainly followed her across the pond.

Welcome To Kincaide Tours

Thanks so much for having me on the blog! I love this topic and the opportunity to include pictures. It’s definitely a first for me and I had so much fun getting it together. I've been an armchair traveler for years now, looking at images online for the places in my novels. I’m excited to share some of them with you. So sit back and relax. No need for passports or plane tickets on this trip. Are you ready? Let’s start our journey!

If you’ll please stick together, we don’t want anyone getting lost. Remember, safety in numbers so please stick to your buddy and stay with the group.

Our first destination is Salem, MA, where we’ll spend a couple hours shopping and dining our way through the Pedestrian Mall. History and the present day collide in this popular strip of stores and restaurants. No need to put your wands away.

This witch friendly town has come a long since the nineteen hangings during the famous witch trials of 1692 and is now home to many different Wiccan and Pagan Organizations.

The Witch’s Closet, a store stocked with everything a witch needs to fill her pantry and Toil and trouble, the local bar for norms and others are fictional places located in the Essex St. Pedestrian Mall and are frequented by Maurin Kincaide and her friends. Perhaps we’ll see some members of the Council or Salem’s Preternatural Task Force while we’re walking around.


Once our bags and bellies are full we’ll walk along the waterfront at Pickering Wharf while we await our ferry to Winter Island.




Maurin has found more than her fair share of trouble on this island. From attempts on her life to a pack challenge she’s seen more than beautiful scenery.


A snapshot of our first destination!
Our trip continues with a voyage across the sea to the Ireland. Erin Go Bragh!

While on the Emerald Isle, we’ll visit the town of Kilkenny and the thatched roof homes still peppering the countryside. Lucky for us there’s a bed and breakfast not far from Mason Hunter’s home. While he is often state side in Salem with Maurin, we may catch a glimpse of them during our tour.

Don’t let the rustic look of these homes fool you. You’ll find all the comforts of home, especially in Mason Hunter’s residence. Your stay in the bed and breakfast pictured above includes a traditional Irish breakfast- bacon and sausages, eggs, grilled tomatoes and potatoes with soda bread and tea. A favorite of Maurin’s, though she does prefer coffee.

Thanks for booking with Kincaide Tours! We certainly hope you’ve enjoyed your trip. Beannacht! Learn more about Maurin Kincaide and her escapades in The Maurin Kincaide Series.
www.rachelrawlings.com
www.facebook.com/themaurinkincaideseries
twitter- @rachelsbooks
Ill Fated The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 5Rachel Rawlings
Genre: Paranormal, Urban FantasyDate of Publication: 2/11/15 ISBN: 978-1508456711ASIN: B00TI20TZC Number of pages: 271 Cover Artist: Eri Nelson



Some things are destined to end in death. After the first attempt on her life Maurin wasn't scared. Hell, she was almost flattered. But someone put a price on her head and things are getting complicated.
Trouble is brewing in the fae courts and it's spilling over into Salem. The UnSeelie Dark Guard have answered the call for her head on a platter and people closest to her are disappearing.
Can Maurin master court politics and find her missing men before someone claims the bounty on her head?
Available at   Amazon   and   BN
Excerpt:

"You're awake?" He sounded more than a little surprised.

"I'm not really sure the state I'm in qualifies as awake."

"Here I was, terrified to poke the dragon, and you're already drinking coffee and talking in complete sentences."

I snorted and took a sip of the aforementioned liquid gold. "Are you always like this in the morning?"

"If you'd let me sleep over you'd already know the answer to that question. Why aren't you asleep?"

In general or just tonight, I silently wondered. "Bad dream. I've been tossing and turning all night. I finally gave in and got out of bed."

Papers rustled in the background and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, intimate."You want to talk about it?"

"Something tells me my nightmares are the least of our problems."

"You have no idea. I need you to come down to my office."

I sighed. "Can it at least wait until after sunrise?"

"Would I be breaking the no phone calls before noon policy if it could wait?"

“There really is no rest for the wicked, is there?”

He laughed and the sound warmed me more than a hundred cups of coffee. "Apparently not, in your case. Now, there's a dirty chai latte and a croissant for you if you're here before Amalie. I can't promise real coffee and pastries will survive beyond five minutes of her arrival."

"It's four-thirty in the morning, Mas. If you know what's good for you, you'll make sure at least one dirty chai and croissant remain unmolested."

"I'll see you soon." He was laughing as he hung up the phone.

Three hours ago I’d practically crawled through the doorway, exhausted from cleaning up after a newbie vamp who’d broken the Jus Sanguinis Intergentes when she killed her donor. The blood pact between people and vampires had a clear no killing, no exceptions clause.

It was up to the maker to ensure their child was ready to feed unsupervised. If something went wrong and the Council found out about it, we cleaned up the mess and the sire was subject to heavy fines and possible revocation of their rights to expand their blood lines. She’d been quite literally a bitch to track and take down.

It had been a long night and it was shaping up to be an even longer day.

I wasted little time getting dressed, opting for a slip on black jersey dress, eighteen hole Docs and a leather jacket. Jewelry was a hindrance in my line of work. My meeting with Mason could easily turn into a run. Choked with my own chain? No, thank you. Unclasping the necklace, I set it in a glass dish on my bathroom counter. I ran a brush through my hair, a toothbrush over my teeth and slipped into the between. I stepped out of the alley two buildings down from the station and walked the last block and a half.

Amalie was swarmed by detectives trying to get at the goodies she brought over from the Daily Grind. She greeted me with a warm smile, shaking her head when I offered to pull her out of the fray. She had managed to endear herself to the entire department in record time. All it took was real coffee and fresh pastries. I pointed to Mason's office. She'd make her way over once the starving masses had their fill.

Mason was so engrossed in the file on his desk he didn't hear me come in. He looked as tired as I felt - too many double shifts. Despite an uptick in activity, SPTF was short staffed due to budget cuts. Without enough man power to staff the shifts properly overtime was mandatory.

"Is that for me?" I pointed at the to-go cup and white paper bag on his desk.

He finally looked up and gave me a smile which lit up his whole face. "As promised."

I stole a quick kiss, grabbed the coffee and croissant, and settled in the chair across from him. I took a long sip of my latte, savoring the delicious mix of tea and espresso. "Man, I needed this. Is that the case you're working on?"

"Yeah, we've got a real problem on our hands."

"Don't we always." I tried to peak at the file.

Mason closed the manila folder. "I'd rather wait until everyone is here."

"Who else is coming besides Amalie?" My curiosity was definitely peaked now. I reached across his desk, hoping to grab the file.

"You look exhausted. Tell me about your dream while we wait."

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. "I see this for the obvious distraction it is but you're right.” Sighing, I rubbed my temple.“However, I'm exhausted, too exhausted to argue. So I'll tell you. Prepare to be confounded."

He listened intently as I filled him in on the nightly visits from the weathered old woman who washed my clothes and hauntingly called my name. I expected him to laugh and tell me it was just a dream, that I had nothing to worry about.

I didn't expect him to look so stricken.

"Bean Nighe." He all but whispered the name.

"You've heard of her?"

"Of course I've heard of her. How long has she been coming to you?"

I stared at him curiously. "A few weeks. Why?"

"A few weeks and this is the first I'm hearing of it?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, obviously struggling to control his temper.“We talked about this. No holding things back, remember?"

"I thought it was just a dream.” I shrugged.“Honestly, I didn't think it was a big deal."

"It was a big enough deal for you to research it." Agitation rolled off him in waves.

When I agreed to give this thing with Mason a chance I also agreed to some conditions. No more flying solo, no more rash decisions or rushing off to play the hero. We were a team, in everything. This was just one of many set-backs.

"I got curious, did a little digging. Until tonight, everything I found pointed to deep seated family issues, particularly with a mother figure. I've told you about my childhood, does that dream analysis surprise you?"

His growl told me he wasn’t in the mood for reasonable—at least to me—explanations. "When did you discover the true meaning of the dream? How long have you known about the Bean Nighe?"

"Tonight. This morning. Before you called me." I held up a hand to stop the tongue lashing I knew he wanted to give me. "I would have told you. I got the impression on the phone there were more pressing matters than my insomnia."

"Is this why you won't let me stay at your place?” His gaze roamed over my face, searching.“Why you never stay at mine?"

"Is that the real reason why you're so upset?" I arched my brows. “Because we’re not having sleepovers?”

"I stayed at your lovely apartment the first night we met."

I turned to watch Aidan glide into the room, stopping behind my chair. Rolling my eyes, I snorted and muttered, “In the closet.”

Mason's jaw twitched but he didn't take the bait. "Aidan."

"It's almost sunrise. Shouldn't you be hunkered down for the day?" I sighed, wondering what he was doing here. I was too tired to deal with Aidan and Mason and their combined testoserone.

Putting the three of us in a room together was like throwing lit matches at sticks of dynamite - eventually one of them will explode.

About the Author:
Rachel Rawlings was born and raised in the Baltimore Metropolitan area. Her family, originally from Rhode Island, spent summers in New England sparking her fascination with Salem, MA. She has been writing fictional stories and poems since middle school, but it wasn't until 2009 that she found the inspiration to create her heroine Maurin Kincaide and complete her first full length novel, The Morrigna.
When she isn't writing, Rachel can often be found with her nose buried in a good book. An avid reader of Paranormal/Urban Fantasy, Horror and Steampunk herself, Rachel founded Hallowread- an interactive convention for both authors and fans of those genres.
More information on Hallowread, its schedule of events and participating authors can be found at www.hallowread.blogspot.com  and www.facebook.com/Hallowread .
She still lives in Maryland with her husband and three children.
www.rachelrawlings.comwww.authorrachelrawlings.comwww.twitter.com/@rachelsbookswww.facebook.com/themaurinkincaideserieswww.facebook.com/hallowreadwww.tsu.co/@rachelsbooks www.hallowread.com  

Author Lisa Medley's Reap & Repent Dream Movie Cast: Get Your Free Copy Today!

Lisa Medley's Reap and Repent Dream Cast‪Genre: Urban Fantasy 
Publisher: Big CedarDate of Publication: March 3, 2015ISBN: 978-0-9908856-2-7ASIN: B00TJFIOFKNumber of pages: 328Word Count: 84k Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs

Deacon Walker: Actor Jensen Ackles They see death. Can they share a life?
#‎FREE‬ to download until May 3rd
Oh, I have thought about this a lot, and I have the perfect cast lined up for the Reaper Series.

Deacon is a burned-out reaper who’s spent the last hundred years quietly doing his job until demon soul poachers invade his territory. When he meets Ruth Scott on a routine reaping, he begins to question all he knows to be true. Photo credit http://www.fanpop.com/clubs/jensen-ackles/images/30582752/title/jensen-photo

Ruth Scott: Actress Natalie Portman
Ruth Scott is a recluse who has always had the ability to see the auras around people she meets. Her ability has been a lifelong social handicap. When she meets the reaper Deacon, she learns her handicap may be her calling instead. Photo credit www.guerrillawallpaper.com



Kylen LarsenKylen is a reaper who’s been possessed by a demon for the past century. Instead of enjoying the sweet hereafter, he’s been poaching souls and raising hell. Photo Credit: Found on thelanalogue.blogspot.com

[image error]



Nate BlackburnNate is a witch who’s helped Deacon through the years, asking very few questions. His trust and friendship are put to the test when he learns there’s much more below the surface than he’d ever expected. Photo credit lovingmalemodels.tumblr.com



Maeve: Actress Jessica Szohr Maeve is a reaper with secrets of her own. Will she sacrifice everything to save the souls of Meridian and her reaper colleagues?Photo credit http://static1.purepeople.com/articles/7/63/09/7/@/467038-jessica-szohr-637x0-3.jpg


[image error]
Olivia Evans: Actress Emilia ClarkOlivia Evans is in the final stages of cancer when Kylen accidentally saves her from demonic possession. When he rescues this innocent soul, Kylen rediscovers his mission—and his heart. [image error]Photo credit: daenerys_targaryen_by_marinavictoria-d542m2d.png (852×937)

Want to see what they’re up to?

The end is near…


Book Description:
Ruth Scott can read the energy of every person she meets. Then she meets Deacon Walker. She can see his ice-blue eyes, his black hair, and his gorgeous face. But this beautiful stranger has no aura.
Deacon is just as unsettled by Ruth—and, having spent more than two hundred years ushering souls to Purgatory, Deacon is seldom shocked by anything. As he helps Ruth to understand her true nature, she awakens desires that he decided long ago a Reaper can’t afford.
A demon invasion forces Deacon to confront the darkness in his own past even as he fights to save the human souls he’s charged to protect. When he’s taken captive, his first concern is for Ruth. But Ruth just might be able to save herself—and the Reaper she can’t live without—if she can learn to wield her newfound powers. Amazon and Kindle Unlimited

Reap and Redeem                  The Reaper Series Book 2Lisa Medley
Genre: Urban FantasyPublisher: Big CedarDate of Publication: March 10, 2015ISBN: 978-0-9908856-4-1ASIN: B00UKBZO7S Number of pages: 326Word Count: 80k Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs
Book Description:
He’s a reaper who has given up on saving souls. Will a dying woman be his salvation?
After a century of enslavement to pure evil, Kylen Larson is finally free. But he’s long past caring. The only woman he ever loved is dead, and he’s tormented by memories of the horrors his demon parasite forced him to commit. Now, he lives for nothing more than hunting down the infernal creatures invading Meridian, Arkansas, and destroying them.
Olivia Evans is in the final stages of cancer when Kylen accidentally saves her from demonic possession. When he rescues this innocent soul, Kylen rediscovers his mission—and his heart. All he wants is to help Olivia stay alive. He’ll just have to fight off an invasion from Hell first…
Amazon and Kindle Unlimited


Reap and Reveal The Reaper Series Book 3Lisa Medley
Genre: Urban FantasyPublisher: Big CedarDate of Publication: April 5, 2015ISBN: 978-0-9908856-6-5ASIN: B00VB4VFJYNumber of pages: 302Word Count: 78k Cover Artist: Sweet and Spicy Designs
Book Description:
By day he saves lives in the city he loves. Can he save souls too?
Nate is an EMT, a witch and a newly inducted member of the Reaper Authority Force. What he's not is a reaper. With unexplained abilities, his true nature lies somewhere in between the angels, demons and reapers he finds himself involved with. When he's paired with the reaper Maeve, he struggles to find his place in the rising war to save the souls of Meridian and the world.
Maeve has tried to hide her reaper handicap--her toxic reaper energy--from her colleagues. But when she's possessed by a fallen angel and forced to poach souls for Hell, her greatest weakness might be the only thing that saves her.
Nate uses his growing powers and his innate magic to find Maeve. He'll do whatever it takes to save her, revealing more than he ever imagined in the process.

Amazon and Kindle Unlimited About the Author:
Lisa has always enjoyed reading about monsters in love and now she writes about them, because monsters need love too.  She adores beasties of all sorts, fictional as well as real, and has a farm full of them in her Southwest Missouri home, including: one child, one husband, two dogs, two cats, a dozen hens, thousands of Italian bees, and a guinea pig.
She may or may not keep a complete zombie apocalypse bug-out bag in her trunk at all times, including a machete. Just. In. Case.
http://lisa-medley.com
https://www.facebook.com/lisamedleyauthor
https://twitter.com/lisamedley
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7824406.Lisa_Medley
https://plus.google.com/u/1/+LisaMedley/posts

Tuesday's Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip: This Weeks Traveller is New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Kristin Miller

Travel and make-believe go hand in hand. Whether we're in the present or the past, in a haunted castle, an enchanted forest or a broken down building, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and traveling the world can bring the imagination to life.

This week's guest is New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Kristin Miller. Kristin Miller writes sweet and sassy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance of all varieties. She has degrees in psychology, English, and education, and taught high school and middle school English before crossing over to a career in writing. 

Kristen: Traveling is an eye-opening adventure, and one of the things I love to do most. I live in northern California, though I’ve seen every corner of the state. I’ve driven through forty-six of fifty states in the continental US, visited Mexico, Canada, Ireland (both southern and northern), and the Azores Islands (ruled by Portugal). So when I was given the opportunity to talk about a few places I’d travel if I could, I jumped at the chance!
Since THE WEREWOLF WEARS PRADA takes place in San Francisco, I spent a considerable amount of time researching the ins and outs of the city. I live about ninety minutes away and drive there often, but I’m fascinated by parts of the city I don’t know. 1-I’m dying to go to the speakeasy Bourbon and Branch. It actually ran during Prohibition in the 1920’s, and is still going strong. There are “House Rules” like no texting, no standing at the bar, leaving quietly, etc. Awesome.

There are five secret bars inside, with moving bookcases and trap doors. Even cooler? You have to know the password to get in. There’s a library bar (be still, my heart!), and a basement bar that is rarely seen.

Every time I look through pictures of the place, I get ideas for werewolf clubs and secret underground societies.


2-Belleek Castle, County Mayo Ireland.  My family and I traveled there two years ago, and stayed for a night. The place feels so magical, it’s hard to describe. Lush forests surround the castle. Armory in the basement. A bar made out of a Spanish Armada fleet ship. A ghost who tugged on my hair while I slept. No joke. We’re so excited to go back.
For San Francisco Wolf Pack #2, I set part of the book in Ireland, in a place that resembles this castle. It was really special to go back and visit through pictures.






3---The third and final place I’d visit is easy. I’ve been an avid collector of all things Titanic since I was ten, years before James Cameron’s movie hit the screen and caused mass Titanic hysteria. I would go back to 1912, even though it’s not a possibility. I’d sail the ship from Southampton to Queenstown, and then disembark so I wouldn’t have to experience the tragedy.

The Werewolf Wears PradaSan Francisco Wolf Pack 
Book 1
Kristin Miller Genre: paranormal romancePublisher: EntangledDate of Publication: 4/28/15ISBN: 9781633752641ASIN: B00VQ1HJS8Number of pages: 230Word Count: 67,000Cover Artist: Curtis Svehlak


Falling in love bites...
Melina Rosenthal worships at the altar of all things fashion. Her dream is to work for the crème de la crème fashion magazine, Eclipse, and she'll do much anything to get there. Even fixing up the image of a gorgeous, sexy public figure who's all playboy, all the time. Even if he's the guy who broke her heart a year ago...Even if Hayden Dean is a werewolf.
Since his father's death, Hayden's the heir apparent to the San Francisco Wolf Pack-well, once he settles down. Hayden isn't interested in giving up his partying ways, except he's pretty sure he's found his fated mate, and the fact that she's a non-shifter is bad news. Now he must find a compromise between the traditions of his wolf world and his certainty that Melina is his...before fate (or another werewolf) bites them both in the butt.
Available at   Amazon    BN    iBooks   Kobo


Excerpt: Chapter One
Life is not a fairy tale.

Melina Rae Rosenthal had lived her entire life repeating that mantra to herself. She’d kissed a long list of frogs, and put up with a lot of B.S. Today, however, made her question whether she’d been wrong, and incredibly bitter, all those years. She’d been asked out by one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet.

Prince Charming had finally arrived.

There was only one thing missing: a fairy godmother who’d wave a glittery wand in front of her face and turn her yoga pants into a puffy blue dress.

“I’ve got nothing to wear.” Melina dove into her walk-in closet, tossing leather pants and a fur poncho onto the bed behind her. “What am I going to do?”

Her best friend Colleen squealed from the bedroom, probably ducking for cover. Not very fairy-godmother-like. “Just calm down. You’ve been skipping around all day like Little Red Riding Hood on Redbull.”

“Not Redbull. Espresso.” Throwing hangers behind her, Melina huffed and shoved two coats apart. “I’ve had six today.”

“Six?” Colleen laughed—one of those witchy cackles Melina both loved and hated her for. She really was more like the Wicked Witch of the West than any fairy godmother Melina had ever seen. “You and Hayden must’ve really hit it off.”

Merely hearing his name made the hair on Melina’s arms stand on end.

Hayden Dean.

He was a San Francisco business mogul, millionaire, and model magnet. He was also scorching hot. Dark brown hair parted perfectly down the center with silky strands that nearly brushed his ears. Creamy chocolate eyes set against golden tan skin. Thick, swooping jaw, and a set of plush lips.

Totally Prince Charming material.

Before today, she might’ve settled for far less. She hadn’t had a date with a real man in months. The ones she’d gone out with had turned out to be mama’s boys, cat-callers, loud eaters, snorters, and scratchers. And if she went out with another guy who called her “Doll” she was going to scratch out his eyeballs.

She’d started to think the good ones were either already taken or dead.

“I’m telling you, it was magic. He’s not anything like you see on E! News.” They’d painted the famous Hayden Dean to be a stupid playboy. A chauvinist who cared for nothing and no one but himself. To her surprise, he’d shown her none of those things. “He’s unexpectedly…charismatic. And caring.”

Two hours interviewing the drop-dead gorgeous hunk, and Melina knew he was the one she’d been waiting for. The guy plucked straight from her dreams. He was tall, dark, and unquestionably handsome—more so in person, if that was possible—so staring at him while she fired questions about his personal life wasn’t the worst assignment she’d ever had.

And she could go off for hours about the trashy assignments she’d had from Celebrity Crush magazine. She’d worked as the Celeb Life & Style columnist for eighteen months, and longed to move up the ranks to Eclipse, the city’s leading fashion magazine.

Every article was one step closer to reaching that goal and leaving the unrealistic demands of her editor behind her.

“I’m stoked you two hit it off,” Colleen said, her voice laced with concern, “but they don’t call him Hook-Up Hayden for nothing.”

A subtle twinge in Melina’s gut warned Colleen might’ve had a point. All those stories about Hayden’s womanizing ways couldn’t have been terribly off-mark. But how could she turn down the chance to see for herself? Guys like Hayden didn’t come around that often, if ever.

“I think I can take care of myself.” Melina squeezed between two Gucci dresses. Exactly how deep was her closet? “If you got to know him, you’d see he’s different. Deep down, I don’t think he wants to be that way…the way everyone paints him to be.”

Colleen huffed. “You really think you know him? Deep down? After two hours in Starbucks?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Melina’s fingers gripped silky-soft pleats. “Gotcha.”

She yanked a Prada gown off its hanger and burst into the bedroom holding it high. The dress was a gorgeous shade of eggplant. Grecian. Long and draping, with pleats on the gown and a dangerously low V-neck.

“Ooh!” Colleen crooned, jumping off the bed, her platinum blonde locks bouncing over her shoulder. “It looks like the one whats-her-face wore to that huge awards show last season.”

“Yes, but this one’s better. The V-neck is deeper, the skirt is tamer. The differences are subtle, but it’s striking, don’t you think?” She stroked the pleats, seeing the image take form. “I’m going to pair it with glittering gold Manolo Blahniks, nude lips, and the most fabulous earrings I can find.”

What better way to make a splash at the Silverlight Awards?

She still couldn’t believe he’d asked her.

Infamous womanizer Hayden Dean had leaned across their tiny table in the back corner of Starbucks, gazed deep into her eyes, stirring something in her chest…and whispered the words she never thought she’d hear: Be my date tonight?

Not only any date. His date to the Silverlight Awards. She’d walk the red carpet. Mingle with celebrities. Wave to the cameras. If she were lucky, she’d show up on E! News. The minute she’d returned from the interview, Melina had set her TiVo to record the event. Just in case.

“What do you think?” Melina bounced on her toes and met her friend’s bright blue eyes, practicing the show-stopping smile she’d give to the paparazzi that followed Hayden around. “Am I going to rock his socks, or what?”

“Wow, Mel, I don’t—I’m speechless.”

“Let’s hope he is, too.”

“I don’t understand why Hayden is going to the Silverlights in the first place,” Coleen said, her gaze raking up and down the dress. “He’s not in the film industry.”

“No, but I guess his father is on the Board of Governors and is getting some kind of honorary award for his work.” She shrugged, excitement pulsing through her. “Hayden gets two complimentary tickets.”

Colleen shook her head slowly. “And he asked you to be his date…”

Melina flinched at her friend’s disbelieving tone. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t mean it like that.” Colleen grabbed Melina by the arm and dragged her to the edge of the bed. They shoved clothes aside and plopped down, dangling their legs over the edge. “It’s just that…isn’t he still dating that Sports Illustrated model? You know, the one with the rack?”

“I’ve got a nice rack.” Frowning, Melina grabbed handfuls of her B cups and held tight. “Okay, okay, so they’re not as big as the other girls he’s dated, but at least they’re real! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“I don’t know.” Colleen shrugged. “I’m more of a leg girl.”

Melina snorted into a belly laugh. “I don’t think the size of my boobs matter anyway. He totally thinks I’m hot as-is.”

“Really?” Colleen beamed, snatching Melina’s hands off her boobs. “He told you that?”

“He didn’t say the words, but one glance and I could feel the chemistry. It was like—” How could she possibly explain their connection? It was crackly. Sparkly. Fizzling the air between them. “—Snap, Crackle, Pop.”

Colleen’s smile fell, and she cocked a thinly-plucked eyebrow. “You’re talking about the cereal? Sweetheart, I think we need to get you out more often. You shouldn’t feel anything close to cereal when you’re with a guy like Hayden Dean. You should melt. Like butter.”

“Oh, there was definite melting going on.”

If Hayden had been any hotter, he would’ve melted the panties right off her body.

“All right.” Colleen nodded. “You better get your petite ass moving. He’ll be here in twenty, right?”

Melina gasped, shooting a glance at the clock on her bedside table.

Six o’clock.

“It can’t be that late already!”

She swept off the bed in a whirlwind, dug around in her drawer for a pair of Spanx, and dashed into the bathroom. Squeezing into the bodysuit, she leaned and tugged as the stretchy material inched up her body. With a groan, she wiggled into the stunning Prada dress. Colleen zipped up the back, oohing and aahing as Melina spun, excitement spearing through her. For the next fifteen minutes, she applied her makeup. Dried her hair. Straightened and smoothed down the fly-aways. If she hadn’t drained her bank account to buy this dress last week, she might’ve had the money to pay for a stylist. But things were tight.

As soon as she landed a job at Eclipse, she’d be fine.

Six-thirty came and went.

Glad to have a few extra minutes, Melina wiggled her size eights into her sky-high shoes and had Colleen strap them. She tweaked her hair. Reapplied her lipstick. Chose a pair of long silver earrings with chunky beads hanging off them. They were high fashion, bordering on gaudy, and they were perfect.

She checked the time on her cell, and just in case, scanned the log for missed calls. There weren’t any.

Nerves settled in, though there was really no room for them in her dress.

“I’m sure he’s having trouble parking,” Colleen said. But her voice didn’t sound so confident.

“Yeah.” Her lips twitched. “Parking’s hellacious around here.”

Melina shrugged off the doubt. As her toes protested the squeeze she’d put them under, she lowered herself onto the bed—keeping her posture straight so the dress didn’t crinkle—and then flicked on the flat-screen mounted to the wall.

“Look.” Using the remote as a pointer, Melina poked it in the direction of the television. E! News flashed over the screen. “People are already showing up.”

“I think they show up early and circle the block over and over again, waiting for the perfect moment to stop.” Colleen sat beside her, crossing her leather-clad legs at the ankle. She was long and lanky—probably six inches taller than Melina, who stood at five-foot-two on tiptoe—and hung her feet over the end of the bed. “I’m sure some like to be there first thing, and others like to make an entrance. From what I’ve heard, Hayden likes to have all eyes on him. I’m sure he won’t mind being late.”

It must’ve been Colleen’s mention of Hayden that made Melina see him emerge from a limo parked at the curb. The camera angle was distant and from the side, so she couldn’t be sure, but this man was the same height and general size, with the same complexion. He turned before she could get a good look at his face. He extended his hand for two blonde bombshells to exit the limousine behind him.

That couldn’t be right.

Blinking quickly to clear her head, Melina leaned forward as worry hardened into a ball in the pit of her stomach.

“Mel,” Colleen whispered, “is that…”

“I don’t think so.”

Colleen had either read her mind, or Hayden Dean was there with someone else. Two, to be exact. As the camera angle zoomed on Hayden’s look-a-like, Melina’s heart dropped to her Blahniks.

Hayden grinned and held up the hands of his escorts as they spun for the cameras, their green silky gowns hiding little of their curvy figures.

It was Hayden Dean. Playboy. Casanova. Pompous ass.

“Oh my God, Mel.” Colleen grasped her shoulders. “What a jerkhole!”

Melina nodded as tears pinched her eyes. She wasn’t crying for him. She wasn’t. She couldn’t be. She’d just been so freaking excited to be going to the Silverlight Awards. That had to be it. She’d spent all day building up tonight’s experience. She’d planned it all out in her head. Of course she’d feel deflated when the fantasy didn’t match the reality.

Cinderella wasn’t going to the ball after all.

Desperate to get a closer glimpse of the television and Hayden’s smug face, Melina crawled over the bed on her hands and knees. When she reached the end, the breath whooshed out of her lungs.

“Are you okay?” She heard Colleen say. “Mel?”

“I’m fine.”

Oh, she was far from the bland emotion. She wanted to rip out Hayden’s tongue and shove it where the sun didn’t shine. The man was a snake in—oh God, was that Prada? They would’ve matched. They could’ve been the perfect pair.

“I should’ve known better,” Melina mumbled. “I should’ve listened to my gut. Somewhere deep inside I think I knew all those magazines couldn’t be wrong.” She shook her head. “I gave Hayden Dean the benefit of the doubt, and two hours of my day. Those are two things he didn’t deserve. I won’t spend another second thinking about him.”

“Good for you.”

Melina sighed. “I guess I just hoped—I just thought maybe for once, the fairy tale could actually come true for me, you know?”

As her legs cramped, she sat back. The ear-piercing sound of fabric ripping hit her ears. She stilled, slowly glancing down. She brushed her fingers over a rip in the Prada dress she’d spent her entire month’s earnings on.

Tears burning her throat, Melina glared at Hayden’s face on the television screen and realized two things.

By ripping her Prada dress, she’d just committed a fashion sin.

And fairy tales were most definitely real. They were. Maybe not for her, but for the girls on Hayden’s arms. They radiated happiness, their wide, innocent eyes taking in the fanciful scene around them. They smiled as she would’ve been smiling. If those blondes could live in a dream, she could too. She had control over her life, including who came in and out of it.

She should be blissfully happy too.

Why’d she have to wait for some dashing knight in shining armor to come riding in on a white horse and sweep her off her feet?

She vowed, then and there, in her torn Prada dress, that she’d make her fairy tale come true…without an arrogant Prince Charming like Hayden Dean on her arm, acting as if he was the one responsible for it all.

About the Author:  New York Times and USA Today best-selling author Kristin Miller writes sweet and sassy contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance of all varieties. Kristin has degrees in psychology, English, and education, and taught high school and middle school English before crossing over to a career in writing. She lives in Northern California with her alpha male husband and their two children. She loves chocolate way more than she should and the gym less. You can usually find her in the corner of a coffee shop, laptop in front of her and mocha in hand, using the guests around her as fuel for her next book.
Facebook: www.facebook.com/AuthorKristinMillerTwitter: www.twitter.com/kristinmiller02Web: www.kristinmiller.net

Guest Blogger: Deleted Scene from Shereen Vedam's A Devilish Slumber

GUEST BLOG #3 – The Mysterious Ink SpotA Deleted Scene: I fight alone
Hello! Thank you very much to Rachel Stapleton for inviting me to the Mysterious Ink Spot blog. My name is Shereen Vedam and I write fairytale-inspired Regency fantasy romances. Today, I’d like to talk about a scene that was cut during final edits. The reason for the deletion was to pick up the pace and stay focused on the main storyline.
Yet, this scene was one of my favorites, possibly because when I was very young, I too was a bit of a loner like Lady Roselyn Ravenstock. Like me, she pulled so far away from her society, her friends, and family that she became an island unto herself.
In the deleted scene, she has been invited to a dinner party to meet the hero’s mother. Having spent so much time alone, years in fact, Rose has become too used to her own company, playing silent games, talking to herself, reading accounts of the war in the newspaper, even singing songs without worrying about being overheard.
Here’s the EXCERPT of that DELETED SCENE:As each course was removed and the next presented, conversation veered onto Rose’s hosts’ upcoming wedding. Seated next to each other, few minutes passed before the couple’s hands brushed one another.Would she and Phillip ever feel that close? Not if the trouble with her sister came between them. Don’t think of that now.She focused on the groom’s mother. She appeared serene and not in the least high in the instep. At the other end of the table, the groom’s sister seemed lively and excited about her first Season. Rose had been that excited once. Especially after she met Phillip. She slanted a side-glance toward him, and realized his attention had not strayed from her.While she watched the others, he watched her. Her gaze wandered across the table and made a discordant connection with his mother. Mrs. Jones, too, had noted Phillip's preoccupation. And it did not please her.Feeling out of place, Rose stared at her plate and allowed the friendly chatter around the table to fade. Idly, she arranged her green peas in two rows of soldiers. Her hero, Randolf, marched through the snowy potato mountains to Corunna with his regiment, and watched in despair as many men of all ranks lost their lives to hunger, cold and despair.“I hope you are not disappointed with the fare my nephew has laid out for your pleasure,” Mrs. Jones said.The silence in the room interrupted Rose’s Peninsular campaign among her vegetables. Mrs. Jones’s gaze was fixed on her battleground. In fact, everyone at the table watched her. Her cheeks warmed. She had once again forgotten where she was.“Perhaps if you were to advise us of your war strategy,” Lady Terrance said with a mischievous grin, “we might be able to join in your fight.”“I fight alone,” Rose replied, far too fast.Phillip’s hand covered hers. “Not any longer.”“Hear, hear.” Lord Terrance raised his glass in a toast. “For, as of today, you have all of us to stand by your side.
Have you ever felt alienated, distanced, and living in a world all your own? When you want to be left alone, where do you go or what do you do?
A Devilish SlumberThe Rue Alliance Book 1Shereen Vedam
Genre: Regency paranormal romance
Publisher: ImaJinn Books/Belle BooksDate of Publication:  Feb. 19, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-61194-609-3 (ebook) ISBN: 978-1-61194-592-8 (print)ASIN: B00TT7UGR2
Number of pages: 224Word Count:  85,000
Cover Artist:  Debra Dixon
Book Description:
Beauty awoke, and then the trouble began . . .
Since dealing with the death of her sister and her abandonment by Sir Phillip Jones, the man who professed to love her, Lady Roselyn Ravenstock has lived as if sleepwalking. Mired in grief, she sequestered herself in her home, avoiding all callers. Then she meets Mrs. Helen Beaumont, and Rose starts to come to life . . . until Helen is murdered. But this time, Rose isn't going back to sleep. Vowing to avenge her friend, Rose dons a costume and goes out into the night looking for a killer.
Sir Phillip, the Regent's favored spy, returns from war determined to win back the woman he was forced to leave three years ago. But when he witnesses Rose covered in blood, racing from a brutal scene while gripping the murder weapon, he goes on a desperate mission to unravel what he hopes is a case of mistaken identity.
The investigation leads Rose into a world of enchantment, where people can re-shape their features, fires are begun with a snap of fingers and objects move of their own accord. But the real magic is the blazing attraction that is re-awakened between her and Phillip.
Will Rose ever get her happily-ever-after? Possibly. But first, she'll have to convince Phillip of her innocence-before the killer strikes again. . . .
Available at   Amazon   Google Books   BN   Chapters

Excerpt: A Devilish Slumber Chapter One
Midnight, Wednesday, April 8, 1813, London, England A SCREAM RIPPLED across the misty, dockside air. Sir Phillip Jones's pulse lurched at that mournful cry. Gripping his walking stick, he raced down the hilly road of the deserted warehouse district in Wapping. A second muffled scream rang out and was then abruptly cut off. No longer concerned about keeping his movements covert, he ran toward those terrified shrieks. Rounding a corner, he tore past a man staring toward where the screams had come from. "Imbecile," the large man grumbled from behind him. Phillip was ten feet away before it registered that the man had sworn in French. By then, the woman who ran out of a warehouse gripping a bloody dagger had captured his focus. For a split second, her face was clearly highlighted by a stray shaft of moonlight piercing the mist. He stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving for air as stunned recognition sank in. Rose? The lady started and swung toward him. Had he spoken aloud? Pulling her hood up, she then sprinted off into the night. Phillip instantly gave chase, but when he reached the open warehouse door through which she had fled, he pulled back. If that had been his Rose, he knew where she lived. Rapidly retreating footsteps behind him suggested the irate Frenchman, probably a sailor, was also prudently withdrawing from this possible crime scene. Inside the warehouse, despite the wide open door, it was pitch black, but that coppery scent of fresh spilled blood was unmistakable in the chilly sea air. Instead of blindly stepping in, Phillip pulled out his candle and circular silver tinderbox from his pocket. He had not survived the dangers of being an intelligence officer for the past five years by acting foolishly during a crisis. He methodically placed the candle's wick end into the hole on the lid and struck the flint until the candle lit. Then, with flickering candle attached to the tinderbox's socket, he cautiously proceeded inside, his walking stick, with a sword hidden inside, raised to act as a club. If someone lurked within this warehouse, he would need blunt force, not blade finesse. The warehouse was empty except for the victim who was slumped on the grimy floor, blood pooling at her side. Her throat had been slit. Her eyes were wide open as if in shock. He lowered his weapon, placed his candleholder on the ground, and knelt to check for signs of life. Her arm was limp and there was no pulse at the wrist, and not even a hint of a breath. Her skin was still warm, but her spirit had been effectively extinguished. With a defeated sigh, he searched her reticule and found calling cards which confirmed her identity. This was indeed Mrs. Beaumont, the woman he had come to meet tonight. Not many from this riverside section of London could afford the luxury of calling cards. Her gown was serviceable, but not of high fashion. He strode restlessly around the empty warehouse, kicking aside empty crates and litter, poking at the walls in search of a hidden door, anything to prove that Rose was unlikely to be the culprit of this crime. Anger built as he returned, empty handed, to the body. With a grunt of frustration, he flung his weighty walking stick across the room. It struck the wooden wall with a satisfying bang and then clattered as it rolled across the hollow chamber. Shoulders set with resolve, he proceeded with his last distasteful but necessary search. He examined the underside of Mrs. Beaumont's sleeves and delved into her bodice. Nothing. He then lifted her gown in case she had strapped something to her limbs. Disappointed there too, he removed her boots and stripped off her stockings. Finding nary a clue, he carefully redressed her, making sure she would be respectably covered before the river police arrived. All the while, words rang through his mind. That cannot have been Rose running away. As he re-positioned her arms at her side, he noticed one of the lady's clenched hands. Pulse speeding in anticipation, he raised her fist for closer study. Probing with his forefinger revealed something held inside her fist. He pried her fingers apart until they revealed a scrunched-up handkerchief. Drawing his candle holder closer, he carefully spread apart the material on the floor. There, on the top right, was a small, black, neatly embroidered crest of a raven. That further evidence of Rose's guilt left him in choking silence as he battled the urge to compare it to the handkerchief now burning a hole in his breast pocket. Finally, knowing he had no choice, he pulled out the other and gently unfolded it beside the crumpled one. The two crests were a match. His handkerchief had been a gift from Lady Roselyn Ravenstock.
About the Author:
Once upon a time, Shereen Vedam read fantasy and romance novels to entertain herself. Now she writes heartwarming tales braided with threads of magic and love and mystery elements woven in for good measure. She’s a fan of resourceful women, intriguing men, and happily-ever-after endings. If her stories whisk you away to a different realm for a few hours, then Shereen will have achieved one of her life goals.
Website:  http://www.shereenvedam.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShereenVedam
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ShereenVedam
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3415603.Shereen_Vedam
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/shereenvedam/
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/101842144538025992079
Blog (A step beyond the ordinary): http://shereentwo.livejournal.com/

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Rachael's Reviews: Brody Lane Gregg's Beyond the Skyline

​Warning: This book made me cry and yet I highly recommend it. Why? Because it is a beautiful evocative story of a family touched by abuse, crime and redemption. ​I have to admit it is not exactly my genre and ​at times I felt the sadness almost unbearable but it was written in such a way that you were hooked in and the character development ...wow! 

​​Beyond the Skyline is Alex Lane’s experience of trading a Juvenile Detention Center and a life of crime for a stable home environment with brother Brandon's family. Alex finds himself attending high school and making new friends, he even falls in love with the pastor’s daughter. Throughout the book Alex writes about his feelings for each character and his fear of reverting back to his old criminal ways.

What I didn't see coming was the end. One if his new friends includes a naive stoner who sadly places Alex in a life changing predicament. The fact that the book was a diary of his life was brilliant. As a matter of fact I wrote the author to ask if it was based in some truth or fact. Amazing job Brody!

Go Buy it Now!

Tuesday's Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip: This Weeks Traveller is Malay A. Upadhyay

Travel and make-believe go hand in hand. Whether we're in the present or the past, in a haunted castle, an enchanted forest or a broken down building, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and traveling the world can bring the imagination to life.

This week's guest is seasoned traveller Malay A. Upadhyay. Today's journey is all about the story of Kalki Evian which was inspired as much by legend and characters in real life as the places Malay has travelled to over the years. All three, in his opinion, hold a mystery - a story - worthy of narration. The ones to feature in the book range from contemporary Milan to Catania in ruins, from futuristic San Siro to a retired Arena di Verona, from post-apocalyptic volcano Etna to a snowladen sunrise on Himalayas.

Place 1: San Siro, Milano



The iconic stadium of Milano retains its structure but has now been equipped with virtual reality. As one approaches it, a giant cuboidal structure comes into view, angled with one of its ends towards the onlooker and pinned to the ground by four tall pillars on its corners. Both the pillars and the sides are patterned with floors of passageways – curving around the pillars or slanting straight along the sides. Each ends somewhere along its base to a gateway – entry or exit, while the other escapes somewhere within the walls. The exterior is now all in glass, flashing with running bands of colours as people cover the distance – major sponsors, details of the organizers, rules of conduct et al. As the wide space that stretches between the stadium and the first set of metallic fence creases in, it brings along a growing wave of cheers from within. The match is about to begin. Once in, escalators carry people upwards with more advertisements flashing by the sides, and sounds that sufficiently eclipsed all else. “So basically,” as Qin sums up in the story, “Ads have become more like personal conversations, which means no two persons are seeing the same ones.”

That is the beauty of this virtual space. It isn’t bound by the first three dimensions of space. Our individual projections can overlap if seen from a third eye. Only, there is no third eye, except for the organizers with monitory purposes.

At the next right on a curving pass, an open gateway rises upon a few steps. The staircase is covered by huge walls that only reveal the northern sky to onlookers at first but as they draw closer, the huge stadium unravels itself. Suddenly the cheer is no more a cheer but a giant pot of boiling roar that comes from a slanting tapestry of people that appear to stretch for miles. This is a larger stadium than any that could have been imagined in the days now long gone. The path and the walls around soon melt into two seats fixed amidst an ocean of that crowd, distributed along three tiers. Wait, “melt”? Yes, and that’s not nearly the biggest change in how the game of football exists in this new world.



Place 2 - The bedroom. Theme: Baarish



Hold her hand now, look at her, let her look at you, for it takes the span of one blink. The wood begins to dissolve on the walls and for a split second, one observes a blank coating of what is now revealed to have been some form of glass all along. Immediately thereafter the colours emerge again on those glassy walls and begin to curve with fluidity and to spread as waves, resembling a drop of ink diluting itself in a bottle of water. Before you know, the room has turned to a rainforest on the edge of a lake. The latter comes to view first on the front wall as a body of water stretches out three-dimensionally till a very distant horizon where it merges with dense rainclouds. The surface is rippled with raindrops and bears little still waves of flowing water. On either side of you, the walls fashion few huge leaves surrounded by many smaller ones stemmed on to trees and hedges that make up a dense jungle view. The show stealers, however, are the static rainfall and those crystal clear raindrops hanging by the edges, which collect onto the grooves of those bent leaves whose very veins shine under a faint hint of light from above. The resolution is so clear that one can see a hint of one’s shining reflection in each miniscule drop. The roof carrying the rainclouds along its length has gaps through which sunrays seem to appear even as the giant star stands hidden behind. And yet, you are still in your room. And you are given an additional option: Play. Blink, and it comes to life.

Slowly the virtual leaves begin to twirl, bend and spring back under the force of proxy raindrops that have begun to fall around into oblivion. They simultaneously shake, led perhaps by a sort of wind that seems to push the rainclouds as well. It is virtual, electronic and confusing. Turn on the sound. Leaves began to crackle. The wind begins to blow by as the ripples spread on the lake. The raindrops begin to hit an invisible ground, the clouds expressing their thunderous intent. The entire transition is smooth, brought to our house by Scinoi Bee, under the authority of a lady whom few have ever heard of. Those who have, refrain from admitting so. Bask in ignorance, for Hope Leosword already has you tethered.



Place 3 - Post-apocalyptic Mt. Etna, Sicily

Thunder sounds loudly. It feels too cold for comfort. To the amazement of Qin, the mysterious reservations of Friuli & continuing loquaciousness of Bree, the ground reveals an apparent field of near-black gravel that seems to slip beneath them. Its slope is gradual further downhill on one end but nearly exponential as it curves upwards on the other. Intermittent blocks of stone shine in absolute black over the ground which itself is draped in a gradient of black, brown and red, surrounding them. Somewhere far downhill, faint patches of green show while the horizon is bordered with ripples of black. There lies the dark Mediterranean Sea, calm and hollow, but too far. The biting chill so high up on the mountain rises further as much above, the peak stands, tall and commanding against the radiant night sky, gleaming on its edges in bright red. Every now and then its insides grumble and send an added shiver down our spine. It feels as if Earth would move or hiccup at any time beneath our feet and even the firm solidity of its surface cannot be trusted. Wind is fierce and worsens both the cold and the wavering ground. Clouds are thick under the roof that has vanished well and truly over the dark humiliation of that covering of fumes and gases. The sounds are majestic and any intrusion is faint, as Qin realized when Bree spoke less than a foot from him, “You wanted to know about me? Here it is.”

It had been a shout but was subdued by the thunder and roar in the sky when they stood there that day, faced with a challenge. Qin looked at the tumultuous peak, flashing out warnings every second. He turned to Bree and asked, “A volcano?”

“Mungibeddu - my love, my tragedy, my home,” was the reply. That was Etna, the jewel of Sicily.




Place 4 - Sandakphu, Himalayas



We’re in India. We’re on the Himalayas. And the wind is always cold here too, though without the anomaly of fiery lava. It revels in the absence of obstructions of an urban sprawl. The lone house, the hut, is made of wood, distinct in its snow-laden roof slanting down upon creaking doors. It stands singularly erect in a cluster of three huts further away. Thick uneven snow on ground creates a wave in the darkness that precedes dawn. There, in a distance, is another hut - the smallest - that flickers over a single candle flame somewhere inside. A very old woman lived there once, several years back. Her noodle soup – steaming, bland and life-saving - would still be distinct in any traveller’s memory. It was nothing short of an elixir in the freeze that prevailed outside. It was such remembrance with which Qin had wished, above all else, that he could tell her just how much her culinary effort in a lost world meant to each and every individual who had ever arrived at Sandakphu from the farthest corners of the world. That faint flickering view at the back of the hut hides the path that brings trekkers up to this peak. In front, land stretches some fifty meters in length and some fifteen degrees in incline. Beyond that, it slopes down sharply from three sides. Nothing lies beyond its softly curving horizon ahead, except the darkest a sky can be, adorned with the twinkle of brighter stars. The only sound is a howl – the hollow wave of the wind as on a desert. For, at that edge, one stands facing the valley beyond – a valley so deep, its end can never been seen. Nor can one wish to see it, for every pair of eyes remains fixed upon the distant mountain range that stretches ahead – many, many miles away. And each of those pairs that looks at it inevitably focuses on one peak in particular - Mt. Everest. There it stands, humble, unassuming, quiet.

Qin, though, was not allowed that moment of awe as he limped up to the edge, bruised and battered. For, as he felt in that moment, the added chill was brought not by the wind, the inspiration brought not by the rocks. These were the embellishments of a silhouette that interrupted the continuum of horizon on that edge. The silhouette was that of Kalki Evian.

A.B Funkhauser Discusses her Character: THE ODYSSEY OF HEUER

Heuer Lost And Found
Unapologetic Lives Book 1
A. B. Funkhauser

Book Description: Unrepentant cooze hound lawyer Jürgen Heuer dies suddenly and unexpectedly in his litter-strewn home. Undiscovered, he rages against god, Nazis, deep fryers and analogous women who disappoint him.
At last found, he is delivered to Weibigand Brothers Funeral Home, a ramshackle establishment peopled with above average eccentrics, including boozy Enid, a former girl friend with serious denial issues. With her help and the help of a wise cracking spirit guide, Heuer will try to move on to the next plane. But before he can do this, he must endure an inept embalming, feral whispers, and Enid’s flawed recollections of their murky past.
Is it really worth it?
THE ODYSSEY OF HEUER
From genesis to manuscript; from contract to print, Heuer calls the shots. Born out of funeral service folklore underpinned by the universal dread every funeral director shares that he or she might one day have to take care of someone they know, this character demands attention. But Heuer is more than a body waiting for the ministrations of the embalmer; he is pure, unmitigated spirit. Whether real or imagined by the people he leaves behind, his not being there anymore impacts them profoundly, evoking false memories, guilt, contrition and, finally, release. If there is life beyond the mortal coil, leave it to faith.

Heuer certainly wrestles with this. Dodging human associations in life, he begs to be discovered and remembered in death. Then and only then, can he be truly free. But before he can achieve that, he must come to terms with his own existence.“I think, therefore I am,” he muses in the opening chapters as he waits with his decomposing shell to be found. Yet this isn’t enough. Going through the identifiable grief phases, he is at once euphoric, then angry, despondent and hopeful. There is life beyond the pall; a life even beyond dreams. But is he entitled? Does he deserve it? Thematically, Heuer Lost and Found touches on some of my favorite personal tropes; what I call the ax grinders; namely, 1) that nostalgia hurts more than it helps 2) that kindness can be found in the oddest places 3) that prying is a lousy thing and 4) that people, no matter how insular, will eventually seek out others because we are inherently social.

It’s to this last point that I’ll focus the rest of this blog, given the prominence love takes not just in literature, but in our daily lives. What is a Heuer other than a word rhyming with lawyer? Heuer is, first and foremost, a man conflicted and odds with everything around him. Believing himself to be intrinsically bad owing to his father’s Nazi roots, Heuer decides at an early age that he is neither deserving of lasting companionship nor real satisfying physical love. Because of this belief, he is impervious to Enid Krause nee Engler’s affection for him when they first meet in late 1979 and then again in 2010, when she is his funeral director and he is her deceased.

“You are not remembering correctly,” Heuer insists as Enid attempts to preserve his remains per his elderly parents’ wishes. Her memories are her own, and these, much to her horror include feelings of “love” long lost, long buried. Resurfacing in these circumstances, she is ashamed, believing that it is no longer her right to mourn: she has a husband who loves her, and as a funeral director, she has an ethical responsibility to keep personal and professional interests apart.


Always at the crossroads in life, both characters face insurmountable obstacles in death. There is so much she needs to tell him, but he cannot hear; there is so much he can hear, but he cannot speak. Can love conquer all? Let’s hope it can. Crossing the great divide is no easy feat, yet Heuer can and he will, leaving Enid with an incredible gift that will endure.


My Blog: www.abfunkhauser.comTwitter: www.twitter.com/iamfunkhauserFacebook: www.facebook.com/heuerlostandfoundSee the first trailer featuring some sweet jazz:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3beUBWf2CQDefinitely see the second trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X-C5qBpb0Yc
Interview Part 1: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g2yhaXfh-nsInterview Part 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WoPthI1HvmoWhere I talk funeral parloring, Six Feet Under and the art of gonzo. Get a taste: The excerpt: http://abfunkhauser.com/2015/03/25/heuer-lost-and-found-the-excerpt/Buy Link (United States)Amazon Link: http://www.amazon.com/Heuer-Lost-Found-B-Funkhauser-ebook/dp/B00V6KLAMA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1427367625&sr=1-1&keywords=heuer+lost+and+foundBuy Link International (Location specific Amazons)Book Goodies: http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00V6KLAMAhttps://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25232328-heuer-lost-and-found?from_search=trueDirect buy presale link (United States): http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=A.B.%20Funkhauser&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerankhttp://bewitchingbooktours.blogspot.ca/p/about.htmlhttps://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25232328-heuer-lost-and-found?from_search=truewww.solsticepublishing.com
#contemporary #paranormal #adult #mortuary #fictionwithahintof #gonzo #HEUERLOSTANDFOUND #amazon #kindle

Book Trailer 1    Book Trailer 2
Available at   
Amazon  and  Book Goodies
Add it to your  Goodreads List Reviews:
Fresh writing filled with rich vocabulary, this story features a vivid cast of colourful, living-breathing characters. This one will keep you reading late into the night until the final page.— Yvonne Hess, Charter Member, The Brooklin 7
Ms. A.B Funkhauser is a brilliant and wacky writer …Her distinctive voice tells an intriguing story that mixes moral conflicts with dark humor.—Rachael Stapleton, Author, The Temple of Indra’s Jewel and Curse of the Purple Delhi Sapphire
The macabre black comedy is definitely a different sort of book! You will enjoy this book with its mixture of horror and humour. — Diana Harrison, Author, Always and Forever
Heuer Lost and Found is a quirky and irreverent story about a man who dies and finds his spirit trapped in a funeral home with an ex-lover who happens to be the mortician. The characterization is rich the story well-told.— Cryssa Bazos, Writer’s Community of Durham Region, Ontario, Canada
Author A. B. Funkhauser strikes a macabre cord with her book "Heuer Lost and Found". I found it to have a similar feel to the HBO series "Six Feet Under".--Young, Author, A Harem Boy’s Saga Vol I, II, and III
Short Excerpt:
Enid Krause nee Engler had made her way down to the embalming room where he lay waiting for her. She paused on her way to dither over some emails and, he noted with approval, to check out Kijiji for vintage GTO’s. Next, she mucked about with the coffee maker, juicing up her brew with two bags of pre-packaged Columbian. This, he noted wryly, was not the wisest thing to do when one’s hands were already shaky. It was apparent to him that she liked her booze as much as he did, and if she were to play around with sharp things, she stood a good chance of facing him sooner, rather than later. “It is here that you must speak to her,” the lamp intruded, muddling his thoughts and destroying his pleasure. He did not like this popping in and out at will inside his head. He hoped her powers were limited to audiences in the basement, but not so—she was a body trapped in a house she did not choose, yet her spirit travelled, permeating the mind at will. “If you want to move on, it must be so. Put things right, mein Schön.”He frowned at her use of ‘Schön.’ It was his term of endearment, yet she took it for her own, as if her right to trample him escheated once he agreed to do her bidding. Make amends. Sure. The Holy Moly Book of Hooey said so, but to which place would he go thereafter? The land of milk and honey, where everyone ran around in bed sheets? Or the other place, where no amount of sunscreen would help? “Neither,” the lamp said confidently, her words ironic, because she was a lamp and obviously hadn’t been anywhere. “To your purpose,” she said, twisting him in the direction of Enid, who muttered under her breath as she fumbled with her earrings. He grinned, longing to see what she would do next: Fraulein Engler was obviously struggling over his dramatic return, and for good reason. They had not parted on the best of terms. She wept sentimentally in the coroner’s suite—woman’s tears—much to her colleague’s chagrin, and now she was dragging her feet like a shotgun bride. Walking alongside her, he thought about theatres and floorboards and actors moving from mark to mark, their steps mapped out strategically on the floor with sticky tape. “This is why people spend so much time and money on make believe, Mächen,” he said. “It’s so much better to watch.” Enid managed to get past the door that separated the O.R. from Weibigand’s outer hall, where she was greeted by the buzz and hum of a big fan that would keep his stink off of her. He concentrated on the noisy traffic that was her brain: like car tires spinning, rubber burning, a lonely heart hammering, and an incomprehensible fear. He was in despicable shape and it would take every ounce of skill to bring him to heel.


About the Author:
A.B. Funkhauser is a funeral director, fiction writer and wildlife enthusiast living in Ontario, Canada. Like most funeral directors, she is governed by a strong sense of altruism fueled by the belief that life chooses us and we not it.
“Were it not for the calling, I would have just as likely remained an office assistant shuffling files around, and would have been happy doing so.”
Life had another plan. After a long day at the funeral home in the waning months of winter 2010, she looked down the long hall joining the director’s office to the back door leading three steps up and out into the parking lot. At that moment a thought occurred: What if a slightly life-challenged mortician tripped over her man shoes and landed squarely on her posterior, only to learn that someone she once knew and cared about had died, and that she was next on the staff roster to care for his remains?
Like funeral directing, the writing called, and four years and several drafts later, Heuer Lost and Found was born.
What’s a Heuer? Beyond a word rhyming with “lawyer,” Heuer the lawyer is a man conflicted. Complex, layered, and very dead, he counts on the ministrations of the funeral director to set him free. A labor of love and a quintessential muse, Heuer has gone on to inspire four other full length works and over a dozen short stories.
“To my husband John and my children Adam and Melina, I owe thanks for the encouragement, the support, and the belief that what I was doing was as important as anything I’ve tackled before at work or in art.”
Funkhauser is currently working on a new manuscript begun in November during NaNoWriMo 2014.
Website: www.abfunkhauser.com Twitter: https://twitter.com/iamfunkhauser
Facebook: www.facebook.com/heuerlostandfound
Publisher: http://solsticepublishing.com/

Tour Giveaway
a Rafflecopter giveaway
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/ba112ffc1017/

Tuesday's Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip: This Weeks Traveller is S.C Alban

Travel and make-believe go hand in hand. Whether we're in the present or the past, in a haunted castle, an enchanted forest or a broken down building, beauty is in the eye of the beholder and traveling the world can bring the imagination to life.
This week's guest is relentless dreamer S.C. Alban. On today's journey she will be taking us to the small town of Freestone in Northern California where her novel, A Life Without Living, is set. While the town does indeed exist, and is quite charming, she took some creative liberties to mold it into the dreamiest place on earth. First stop is Sonoma County which S.C says is one of the most exquisite places on the planet. Please follow S.C on Facebook or check out her other social media links www.facebook.com/scalban and drop her message below. There was never a lack of inspiration to be found when creating the perfect setting for my darlings, Kate and Gio. -S.C Alban

A Private Vineyard in West CountyThe entire tone of the novel is steeped in grand romantic sentiment. The numerous vineyards located in Sonoma County are no strangers to romance. On an early morning when the fog has not quite lifted and the mist plays shadow games in the dawning sun, you cannot help but be taken back to a different time, a different place. If you can find a quiet spot and sit there long enough with only a flannel blanket wrapped tightly around your body, you will may be lucky enough to feel the magic that reveals itself to those who understand that life is nothing without love.                                                               Downtown Petaluma stands today as it has for many decades. Full of beauty and historic architecture, when you step foot on its sidewalks you instantly feel the pulse of the past lives that exude from every inch of its core. When crafting Freestone, I was deeply inspired by the two storied structures with their shops on the first floors and living spaces above. The old wooden floors that exist in some of the buildings are creaky and worn, unleveled and rich in character. They speak whispers of secrets that you can almost hear, stories that may never be told. Among these buildings are Claire’s mother’s store, above which Gio moved into, and the “hidden” tavern where the watchers gather.
Copperfield’s Books, SebastopolThis bookstore defines everything that is good in the world. The moment you walk into it you are hit with the smell of books. Real books. Books that you know people have spent hours upon hours crafting and creating. The subtle scent of incense and the warm, earthy tones are grounding. It is a place where you can sit in one of the oversized chairs and read for an afternoon. It is one of the loveliest places I know, and the inspiration to Kate and Gio’s first meeting alone in the bookstore conference room to discuss Gio’s “novel.”
Hardcore Espresso, SebastopolYou may remember the very first time Kate snuck away to meet Gio for coffee, she never did get to put on that lipstick. This was probably the easiest setting to describe, as I knew immediately where it would be. Hardcore Espresso was the only place it could be. Now nestled just off the highway heading out towards West County, this coffee shop is one-of-a-kind and is everything that the novel describes. Its overall vibe is friendly and caring and kind, thanks to the wonderful people who work there. It’s quite the place for meeting and chatting it up with old friends or strangers, and the coffee is simply amazing. Considering Kate’s obsession for the stuff, where else would she go?
Kate’s Grove, A Secret Location
I will not reveal the location of Kate’s secret spot, the spot where she and Gio reunite under the stars. But trust me when I say this: there is a place, where the forest meets the ocean, along a two lane road, near an old white building, there is a secret place. It’s a place of real magic. A place where everything you dream can come true. There are no limits. There are only opportunities. Trust me when I say that places like this do exist. I’ve been there many times and I know that it is real. I have rested on the soft forest floor, listened to the crashing of the waves, and have spoken with Kate, dreamt of Gio, and have been hunted by Alessandro as he lurked along the dense tree line waiting for his moment.

 A Life Without LivingKate Martins appears to have it all– a good career, a beautiful home, and an amazing husband. What more could a woman ask for? But when Kate's recurring nightmares begin to cross over into her waking hours, she discovers that her perfect life is not at all what it seems. It isn't until she meets a mysterious stranger that Kate begins to question who she truly is and where she comes from. 
The Woman Inside: Sara Every woman has a secret. Every woman has a struggle. She may not know it yet, but she does … she will. Sara knows her secret. She’s known it for a long time. Now, one question remains. Will she make peace with it or will it consume her?



S.C. Alban was born and raised in Northern California. She is the eldest of three children and often spent much of her childhood playing make believe with her two younger sisters. However, it wasn't until much later that she knew she was destined to be a writer.After graduating from university, where she majored in English literature, S.C. Alban travelled for a year. She ultimately moved back to Northern California where she obtained two Education Specialist credentials and a M.A. in Education. However, her passion for writing never died.Her first break came in 2013, when she had some of her poetry published in Coalesce Literary Magazine, an online publication. In 2014, Solstice Shadows, an imprint of Solstice Publishing, took on her first novel A Life Without Living, the first book in the Life Without Livingseries. It was released in December of 2014. Shortly after it’s debut, Solstice also released the first story in S.C.’s short series, The Woman Inside. These days, S.C. spends every minute she can squeeze in imagining fantastic realities for her characters, who are very real parts of her life. She is an avid hiker, loves to garden and a relentless dreamer. Both of S.C.’s titles are available through Amazon and the Solstice Publishing website. Additionally, A Life Without Living is also available on Barnes and Noble online.
Follow S.C Alban on Social Media
http://www.amazon.com/scalbanwww.scalban.comwww.facebook.com/scalbanwww.twitter.com/muchasfloras
 To be featured on The Treasured & Tipsy Timeslip, please email raquelle.jackson@gmail.com